The Huntsman and the Holy Knight
by CourtReportingPerfection
Summary: Dean Winchester likes being alone. In fact, he loves it so much, he's reverted to living deep in the woods where nobody will bother him. Everything was perfect, and quiet, just the way he liked it. That is, until Holy Knight, Castiel Novak showed up, claiming God had sent him to watch over, and protect Dean. "I don't need some holy high-flyer to protect me."


There was nothing more annoying than early morning fog in the forest, Dean decided with a scowl, yanking the cowl up on his woolen cloak. The damn low hanging cloud did more than just obscure vision; it clung to his already heavy clothes and made him feel like he was going to suffocate before the hunt was even done.

The days were starting to blur together and before the huntsman knew it, winter was nipping at his heels and he had barely done anything to prepare, too distracted with trying to keep anonymous than anything else.

Dean's fingers curled tighter around the dagger, getting a better grip in his clammy hand. He'd been trying his best to avoid the soldiers and bounty hunters out to collect on him for Gods knew what. King Michael might as well have been raising Hell just to go after one insignificant man. Well, he _did _sleep with his younger sister, but that _hardly _warranted putting a price on his head…

_Snap. _The huntsman's ears perked up and he pressed himself as close as he could against the tree, his only shield from his target.

Lions were hard to come by these days, and even if it was a bad idea, Dean was taking all that he could get. More specifically the one he had been tracking for the past three days, straying a little farther from home than he liked—he'd had to leave his baby behind and he knew that when he got home he'd get an armful of almost rabid wolf. He would've laughed at how normal that sounded given the world they lived in these days.

The fugitive carefully slid along the tree until he could just peek around the trunk and his sharp green eyes zeroed in on the female lion, her muzzle to the ground as she sniffed out her own next meal. He licked his lips, tasting her scent in the air like a snake.

She padded along with a slight limp in her left hind-leg; an injury that Dean had given her when he first encountered her. Anybody would have done it if they were just attacked out of nowhere. And really, he shouldn't have been caught off guard in the first place but he was pretty sure he had been alone.

Dean's breath came slow and steady as the lioness approached, unsuspecting as she quested for the scent of a meal.

Well, it was now or never, wasn't it?

The Huntsman scrounged up as much of his courage as he could, held his breath, and leapt onto her back, tackling her from her left flank. She roared loudly in surprise and anger, trying to wriggle free from underneath him, but he held fast, securing his legs around her lean body and narrowly dodging a swipe from her giant paw. After coming this far, getting his head ripped off wasn't on the list of things he needed done.

Dean let out a huff of breath and drove the slim dagger into the nape of her neck and twisted viciously. The cease-struggle was instantaneous, and when she slumped to the ground he almost face planted into the top of her head.

His cowl had fallen back in the struggle, making the cloak rest more heavily on his shoulders. He should really invest in something more light weighted. Dean sat back in a crouch over his kill, debating on whether or not he'd make it back in time before the meat went bad if he decided to drag the carcass with him.

"No, that would be too easy," Dean muttered, yanking the dagger from the corpse's neck and setting about skinning and stripping it of its meat. It was long and messy work, and by the time he was done the fog had lifted and the sun was beating down against his back through the canopy above.

He usually worked a lot faster, but he was getting really distracted as of late; his mind would wander towards his little brother, wondering what could be happening to him right that very moment. His mind swam with the memories of days before he was taken in the night, never to be heard from again.

It was one of the many reasons Dean chose to live alone in the woods, away from what little society could probably offer him. But, unfortunately, he'd have to go into the nearby village to barter soon, and just that alone was a hassle.

Dean wrapped the meat up in the lioness skin, using a strip of deer hide he had brought to secure the top. It wasn't an ideal way to do it, but it was better than carrying everything with his bare hands; a bandit might try and get the better of him while his hands were full.

"Excuse me, huntsman," a low, gravelly voice called out and Dean froze. Shit. And here he had thought that he'd hidden so well.

He faintly registered the sound of a horse snorting and stamping a hoof impatiently as he slowly rose from his crouched position, skin-bag cradled securely in his arms. He refused to turn around.

"Perhaps you could help me; I am looking for a man in these woods—a hunter like yourself called Dean Winchester," the stranger continued, completely unfazed that he might as well have been chatting up a brick wall.

Dean minutely turned his head in the man's direction, tone flat and leaving no room for further questioning.

"I know nobody of that name here."

"A pity-" the distinct sound of him leaning forward in the saddle- "I was told by a few stray villagers that he was," and Dean could hear the suspicion in that rough voice. He needed to get out of here; the fight-or-flight urge was boiling up inside of him, nearing its breaking point.

"Perhaps he has already moved on? I have heard rumors that he never stays for long," the huntsman said, keeping his words as light-hearted as he could. "Maybe if you could give me the description they have given you I might be able to help."

"Only if you turn and face me properly, huntsman."

Son of a bitch; nobody could ever leave well enough alone, could they?

The instinct to run was crushing, but he forced himself to turn and face the stranger, white-knuckling his grip on the skin-bag.

The man astride the white stallion before him was definitely a knight, and from King Michael's personal guard no less; the brilliant gold of the Milton family crest blazing in the light—a serpent coiled around the hilt of a sword, red angel wings fanning out on either side of it—on the knight's deep blue silk surcoat.

And of _course _it would be fucking silk; wouldn't want the poor thing to get shot with a stray arrow or anything. Of course, that was just if they were bad shots, which Dean _wasn't._

What really caught the huntsman up were the knight's shocking blue eyes fixed calmly on him, like he wasn't even all that surprised that Dean was sizing him up. He was a knight so of course he wouldn't be surprised by _anything._

Dean shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot under that gaze before clearing his throat, "I've done as you've asked so return the favor or I'll be on my way and the Winchester boy will be lost to you."

Blue eyes openly stared at the bundle in the huntsman's arms before dragging up to lock with Dean's narrowed green ones.

The knight's lips quirked up in a smirk and he made to dismount, deliberately slowly like he would scare the man off if he moved too quickly. "You fit the description quite easily, sir huntsman."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied flatly, taking a small step back. He was almost positive that he could outrun the slighter man on foot, but if he got back up on the steed then it would be a losing battle and he was a sore loser.

"Then why are you acting so frightened?" the knight asked, that smug smirk still plastered on his face.

Dean wanted to stab him.

"A knight of Michael's approaches me and I'm supposed to welcome them with open arms?" the huntsman quipped, eyebrows climbing to his hairline in mock surprise. "Forgive my manners, had I known I'd have readied a six-foot hole for you back home."

"I am no knight of my King's," Blue-eyes remarks in clipped tones. "I govern myself just fine, thank you. And there is no need for your dry humor."

"A knight is a knight," Dean states, taking another step back, not once looking away from the man. "And you're all the same if you're looking for Winchester." He just managed to catch himself in time. That would be ridiculous if he just gave his own identity away. "You'll never find him so I suggest you continue your quest elsewhere."

"You seem to know the man quite well"—eyes narrow suspiciously—"for one who claims not to."

"I know him not personally—just the type of man he is," the huntsman retorts, pleased that he's actually holding his ground so well for once. This almost never happens.

Feeling like he had gotten his point across, Dean turned on his heel and walked speedily away from the knight, further into the thick of the forest.

He almost breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't hear him following.

* * *

True to his thoughts, Dean was tackled to the hard floor upon arriving at home. He had been gone a total of five days and he was a little proud that Baby had survived so well on her own. The large, black wolf sniffed at her masters' neck and up along his hairline, making sure it was really him. You could never be too careful.

"Daddy missed you too, Baby," he said softly, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips as he affectionately pulled on one of her ears. The wolf nipped his fingers in reprimand and he pushed at her muzzle. "Get off already."

Baby snorted and made a point to step all over Dean's stomach as she moved off of him and he coughed, grabbing onto her tail and pulling her back onto the floor. The wolf yelped and the huntsman chuckled, pushing himself to a sitting position.

"That's what you get," he scolded half-heartedly, wincing when she pawed at his stomach again. "Oh relax; be happy I came back at all."

Dean shrugged out of his cloak—dropping it onto the thick blankets on his bed—and turned back to Baby with a smile.

"Come on," he ordered, striding past her to go back outside, "let's see if we can't get washed down and return before night comes." Baby happily padded after her master, licking his finger tips to get attention once she caught up to him.

Dean rolled his eyes, but obliged, stroking down the side of her face and under her jaws.

This was nice and routine; just what he needed after that awkward run-in with Blue-eyes a few days ago. The huntsman couldn't help but wonder why the knight didn't pursue him when he beat a hasty retreat. He was ashamed of retreating like a coward, but it was either that or not live another day as a free man. He liked making his own decisions.

Dean slid down a small, muddy hill, continuing on his path towards the lake.

He had gotten really lucky to find a place to settle that was near a fantastic water source, and even with knights snooping around he was reluctant to leave it.

He stooped and picked up a branch from the forest floor, whistling to get Baby's attention and waving it in front of her face for emphasis. Baby yipped excitedly, circling her master and nudging the stick with her nose to encourage him to throw it.

"Learn to be patient," Dean scolded, but he was smiling so she knew she wasn't in trouble. He drew his arm back and threw it with as much force as he could, watching it sail through the air and land far enough in the lake that Baby would have to swim for it.

The wolf took off after it, bounding right into the water with no hesitation at all.

"Yeah, that's my girl," Dean praised, pulling off his tunic and itchy undershirt, revealing the brand his dad had given him all those years ago, just under his left collar bone. His dad had gone a little crazy after his mother had passed away, giving both Dean and Sam one, saying that they would keep the Demons away. Everybody knew that Demons did not exist, but John had been convinced that a yellow-eyed Demon had taken Mary from them.

He threw the clothes over a nice, high branch so he was sure that they wouldn't get wet while he and Baby rough-housed. He briefly debated on whether or not he should divest himself of his pants too, and decided not to. He didn't complain about the way the things would cling to his legs like other guys usually did. Besides, he wasn't taking a full on bath; just getting most of the grime off would be good enough for him.

The huntsman stood on the edge of the lake, watching Baby swim towards the branch, and he frowned. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. It was nagging at him and he shivered under the nonexistent gaze and waded out, thigh deep, into the lake.

With a lot of effort on his part, Dean pointedly ignored the pair of eyes he knew were burning into the back of his head. He could practically feel the heat radiating off of the gaze and it was irritating him to no end. Seriously, he just wanted to be left alone, and he didn't think that that was too much to ask for.

Thankfully, the huntsman was fan-fucking-tastic at ignoring unwanted attention. Which is exactly what he chose to do right now, continuing on with what he originally planned on doing; which was getting himself as clean as possible.

He bent down, letting his hands dip under the surface, rubbing them together to get the dirt off. The water was nice and warm; not too cold to be annoying and not too lukewarm to bring up unnecessary bacteria. He was going to have to enjoy this before winter fucked him over and froze the awesome lake solid.

Dean whistled loudly and clapped his hands, drawing Baby's attention away from trying to shake herself dry on the opposite side of the lake, the stick hanging at an awkward angle from her jaws.

"Come on, Baby," he called out and she snorted, settling into her disobedient mindset a little earlier than Dean had wanted.

But, the huntsman had a trick for just something like this.

Making sure that Baby was watching, Dean sighed theatrically and put his hands on his hips, rolling his gaze up to the clouds. "Well, I guess I'll just have to give a special treat to some other, more obedient wolf," he trailed off, his voice just loud enough so that it would carry over to her.

The black wolf's ears perked up at the idea of a treat and she splashed eagerly back into the water, completely abandoning the branch in her haste. Dean's laughter echoed around the clearing, light and happy; sounding for all the world like he didn't give a damn about anything.

Which, he sort of didn't.

"You, my girl, are a sucker," Dean grinned, kneeling in the water when Baby got closer so that he didn't have to bend down. With another laugh he threaded his fingers through the thick fur of her neck, scratching at the nape and moving up to behind her ears.

"Or, maybe I'm just a good liar these days." He just barely managed to dodge the nip the wolf aimed at his nose for teasing her. He moved his hands so that one was cupping her jaw and the other rested between her ears atop her head, keeping her in place and forcing her to pay attention to him.

"We have some company, Baby," the hunter murmured, mindful of the clearing's ability to echo just in case. "If you sniff them out there will certainly be a nice reward for you."

Baby's odd blue eyes lit up eagerly at the idea of tracking somebody for her master. Or, Dean likes to think that anyway—he knows that she's really just in it for the raw meat she'll get later, but he'll pretend not to know that for her sake.

If anything the feeling of being watched intensified as he straightened himself, gesturing for the canine to go to work.

Whoever it was, they weren't going to know what they had gotten themselves into.

Over the years that Dean has had Baby—since she was a young pup, mind you—and after John had passed on and his little brother had been taken, the wolf had grown extremely protective of him. He understood why; he had helped his dad raise her and he was practically the only family she had ever known and even had left.

She was determined to keep her hunter alive for as long as she was, and when it came to tracking orders, well, that was where she showed just how grateful she was to Dean.

As the perverted peeping tom was soon about to witness, Dean noted with a pleased smirk.

Baby didn't waste time in shaking herself dry, nose immediately snuffling at the ground, picking up on the scent of the intruder. The huntsman watched with mild amusement as her ears flattened back against her skull and her upper lip pulled back, baring her teeth in a threatening snarl, eyes locked onto the branches above where Dean's clothing hung.

Whoever this spy was, they certainly knew how to hide.

"Well," Dean began conversationally, crossing his arms over his naked chest, not even bothering to settle Baby down, "I'd come down from there if I were you. My baby doesn't take too kindly to strangers who climb."

"I'll come down when she has been called off."

The huntsman started at the gravelly voice of the knight from a few days ago; the very one that had been plaguing his thoughts. He thought that the man hadn't followed him home.

Dean had been wrong before.

"You followed me," he accused instead, a little pissed off now, Baby mimicking his mood with a low growl. If her master hated this stranger, then by the Gods, she would too.

"You are not as convincing a liar as you like to think you are, Dean Winchester," Blue-Eyes quips, making the huntsmans' blood boil.

Seriously? He was trapped up in a tree by a wolf and he was going to make jabs at Dean like that? _Hell no._

"Royalty," Dean snorted derisively. "You lot can never leave well enough alone, can you? Just have to stick your noses where they don't belong."

"You mistake me, huntsman; I am no more royal than you are."

"Oh, right, because that makes me trust you _so _much more because of your lack thereof," he retorts with a sarcastic little wave of his hand. "As I've said the first time we met; a knight is a knight."

"I am not like my comrades, or my King," Blue-Eyes insists, a hint of annoyance worming its way into the usual calm. "Call off your guard and I shall show you."

Dean's eyes narrow suspiciously. "Throw down your weapons first," he says slowly. There was no way in Hell that he was going to take a chance to "talk peacefully" when the guy was well armed.

"Whatever pleases you, huntsman," the knight submits, shedding himself of sword and a few daggers.

They landed with a loud clatter on the forest floor, the metal glinting dangerously in the light.

Thank the Mother Dean had thought ahead for once.

"I'm not coming out of the water," Dean adds lamely, and he waves Baby off, ordering her to stand down. She submits with a reluctant whimper and sits back on her haunches.

He was really enjoying this sudden streak of obedience from his companion. The huntsman made a mental note to give her more than a meager treat when they returned home.

_If _they returned home, that was.

Blue-Eyes did not respond, even after his feet were firmly planted back on solid ground, he waited a few moments before speaking again; "Castiel Novak."

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. "Come again?" he asked.

"My name," Castiel clarified. "Castiel Novak; I followed you here because the Father has commanded that I watch over, and protect you."

…Oh. _Perfect. _This Castiel was one of those "Holy Knights"; going by one God's guidance and following it through until the bitter end. Dean had heard a lot about this special breed of knight, and with what he knew about them, he wasn't particularly keen on having one around him all the time.

"I need no protection. Your God is wrong," the huntsman deadpanned, not really seeing the need to soften the blow. Castiel, however, did not seem fazed by such a reaction, and the fucker _laughed _and shook his head like Dean was being a child that was throwing a tantrum.

_You've got to be kidding me._

"My God is never wrong, boy," the knight replied. "He spoke unto me that I must seek out the Righteous Man. I was given only a name, _your _name, and then told to watch over you."

"I work better on my own," Dean bit out. "I don't need some holy high-flyer as a body guard."

"I will be whatever you ask of me. That is my order."

The huntsman resisted the urge to throw his hands in the air and groan in frustration. This guy just didn't know how to take a hint!

"I hate knights, royal or not. Do not follow me again, or next time I will show you what I am really capable of."

Dean—well the only way to describe how he got out was _stalked—_stalked out of the lake, Baby moving to keep herself in between her master and the enemy. If he wanted to try anything, he was going to have to get through her.

The huntsman yanked on his itchy undershirt, feeling a lot less exposed now, and (less violently because he took greater care with his lighter fabrics.) pulled on his tunic. Almost as an afterthought, he picked up one of Castiel's daggers, twirling it around his hand expertly.

"Believe me, knight; you don't want to be on the receiving end of my capabilities," Dean said darkly, voice heavy with promise, and he dropped the dagger back on the pile of steel.

Castiel eyed the huntsman warily, but didn't back down. In fact, he went right ahead and had to just open his mouth to piss Dean off even more.

"I doubt you could get the best of me," the knight said, having the nerve to look and sound arrogant.

Dean wanted to gut him.

"Baby," he barked, and the reaction was instantaneous. In the blink of an eye the wolf was on the knight; forcing him into the grass, her teeth just grazing his throat like the kiss of death. He had no hope of moving—unless he didn't want to keep his trachea, that is.

"I win again," Dean teased, not even concealing his amusement as he watched the knight try to keep still, avoiding getting slaughtered.

"Like I told you before; I work better alone, and I intend to keep it that way."

And Baby held Castiel there so he couldn't follow after her master, refusing to let him up until she heard his piercing whistle.

* * *

Dean did not see Castiel for weeks after that, not until a thick blanket of snow covered his forest, muting everything in its embrace.

The huntsman, thick cloak wrapped tightly around himself against the chill, crunched and stumbled through mid-calf high packing snow, Baby trotting easily behind him. She was being smug about how she could walk on top of the stupid stuff while Dean just sank like lead.

"Why did you beg me to go to the village now?" Dean whined, hitching his bag of goods up higher in his arms to get a better grip. The wolf yipped happily and ran ahead, leaving the huntsman behind with his burden by himself.

"I hate you, just so you know!" he called after her, tripping up over his own feet in his haste to catch up.

His arms flew forward, throwing his precious bag a few feet in front of him, before he landed in a heap in the cold, biting snow. He groaned in pain and annoyance, pushing himself up on his soaking knees with a wince.

Dean was horribly uncoordinated in the snow.

"Need some help, Huntsman?"

He froze, fingers just barely grazing the bag, and a sense of familiarity about the situation he was in came over him.

"I'm fine by myself," Dean answered stubbornly, picking it up and glaring over his shoulder at the knight. "Get lost."

"You are not getting rid of me so easily this time," Castiel replied, stepping up to Dean—with more ease through the snow than Dean had—and hauled him to his feet.

The huntsman wrenched his arm free from the knight's grip with a growl. "I don't need your help," he snapped. "I can take care of myself."

"I did not say you couldn't take care of yourself," the knight remarked mildly. "I'm just helping you do it."

"I'm not an invalid, knight," Dean spat, remaining stubborn as he stomped ahead. "Nor am I old. I need no assistance. I'm fine on my own."

"So you keep repeating," Castiel pointed out, following at a safe distance behind the huntsman. He didn't want to risk Baby coming back and mauling him for getting too close to her master's personal space.

"How do you even keep finding me?" he demanded. "I make sure to take new routes home every day in case this happens."

"I saw you from the tavern this time," the older male explained. "I merely followed you from there; it wasn't too difficult."

Dean glared at the dull gray sky, silently cursing the Gods for his bout of bad luck.

"Fine," the huntsman ground out, totally _not _giving in to the knight's demands to let him stay. "But if you're going to follow me like a lost child, put yourself to work. I don't keep company who can't do anything for themselves."

Castiel grunted when the bag was shoved into his gut.

"What do you have in here?" the holy man asked, refusing the temptation to peek inside.

"A mentor of mine had gifts for me," he answered, pulling his woolen gloves on tighter and yanking his cowl up. It had begun to snow again.

"Gifts?" Castiel raised an eyebrow in question. "What kind of gifts?"

"Weapons, mostly; for my next hunt," Dean explained, trudging ahead through the snow. "There's a village east of my place that's been having Vampire troubles. I'm fixing to cut them all to pieces."

The Holy Knight stopped short, giving the back of the huntsman's head a disbelieving look.

"I did not think that those existed…" he said slowly, and Dean snorted.

"If you stick with me you'll see a lot of things that you thought were fairy-tale," he replied humorlessly.

"I thought you were a hunter."

"I _am _a Hunter," Dean said, "I hunt for myself and 'Hunt' for the sake of others. I wouldn't be able to make my living otherwise."

"There are two types of Hunter?" Castiel asked, confused, and the huntsman rolled his eyes.

"For a guy following God you'd think you'd know a thing or two," he shook his head and sighed. "I keep a low profile for my job; can't have too many people begging for my help."

"Yet an entire village is nothing," Castiel replied dryly.

Dean rolled his eyes, pointedly ignoring the knight as they walked on, the going becoming easier when the huntsman found his older foot prints, stepping in them to avoid making a new path.

The snow's peaceful silence settled over them, the snow crunching underneath their boots and the chill trying to seep into their bones. It had been a good long while since Dean had taken a walk through his forest in the winter time. He preferred to stay indoors and try to hibernate like a bear; if Baby let him that was. She was antsy, and loved running out in the snow any chance she got.

The silence was broken and the huntsman abruptly stopped short, his ears zeroing in on the sound of the heavy panting of horses and the confident calls of their masters that only belonged to one pair of knights.

"Well, well, well," Zachariah smirked, making Dean glare when the man circled to stop in front of him, Uriel stopping at Dean's left. "And here we thought you were lost to us, Winchester. You should stop running and come back to us; we miss you."

The huntsman scoffed, tilting his chin up defiantly before responding with as much malice as he could muster.

"You mean you miss using me as your little play toy," he spat, lip curling back in a barely repressed snarl. "If you're here to bring me back I _will_ kill you this time."

"You have more bite on you than last time," Zachariah purred. "This makes it more entertaining for us."

Castiel stepped up beside Dean, throwing his arm out in front of the younger man to push him backwards, instinctively protecting him. "If you wish to get to Dean Winchester then you shall have to go through me," he said solemnly, like a threat he'd willingly carry out if necessary. And if the knight secretly hoped that these guys would slip up and try something just so he could kill them, well, that was his business.

Uriel was the one who spoke next, tone a mix of surprise and amusement. "A respectable knight such as yourself would do well not to get in our way. We are apprehending an escaped slave, and you would stop us?"

The Holy Knight narrowed his eyes. "You act as if I have to think about my decision. I will not tell you again; if you wish to get to him you will have to go through me," he repeated firmly, with more threat laced into his tone.

"I can take care of myself," Dean snapped, shoving Castiel aside so he wouldn't be forgotten. "I don't need you protecting me. I don't need anybody." The huntsman slid a hand into the bag Castiel was holding, fingers curling around the familiar handle of a butcher knife. He had told Bobby that they worked better when chopping off Vamp heads, but it would work just as fine cutting up two annoying knights of Michael's.

His lips quirked up in a smirk as he tilted his head to one side, observing Zachariah with a mischievous glint in his jade eyes and the knight swallowed nervously. He had only seen that look once and that was when…

"Do you remember what happened the last time you tried to subdue me? The last time I decided I couldn't deal with you?" Dean asked, a dark undercurrent pairing up with the innocent enough question. The huntsman tilted his head the other way. "I almost killed you, didn't I?" His eyes dulled at the memory, "a pity I didn't follow through."

Castiel gave Dean a warning look. He hadn't been with the man long, but he knew a threat when he heard one; and he was pretty damn sure that Dean was going to carry it out.

He needed to think of an idea before he got them into any more trouble.

"Dean Winchester is under my careful attentions," Castiel spoke up, drawing the knights' attention away from the huntsman. "It is by order of my brother—the King—and the Holy Father that I watch over him and keep him from trouble until such a time arrives that he no longer needs a shadow."

"We shall see about that," Zachariah sneered, pulling back on the reins of his steed, coaxing it around the unlikely duo. "Don't think that this changes anything, Winchester; we'll be back for you eventually."

"I told you I didn't need any help," Dean hissed, pulling his bag from Castiel's hands and stomping off in the snow. "Why did you have to tell them that? I could've handled them; I've done it before."

The Holy Knight rolled his eyes, exasperated, and followed after Dean. "I was telling the truth; I don't see what's so wrong about that."

"You don't see anything wrong with that?" the huntsman repeated with a snarl. "You made me look weak, you asshole! I don't need a Goddamn babysitter!"

Castiel roughly grabbed Dean's arm and yanked him around with a growl. "You have said time and again that you need no help, that you do not need anybody," he barked, showing for the first time that he didn't have an unlimited amount of patience like Dean had originally thought. "I did _not _make you look weak; if anything I made you more dangerous, more threatening. What idiot would _dare_ challenge a person who requires that a knight be with them, if not to keep _them_ in line, but for protection _against others_ because they have many enemies?"

The huntsman swallowed thickly, frozen to his spot more by Castiel's enraged glare than the cold of the forest, because he'd be damned if the guy wasn't right.

He _did _sound a little more dangerous now that he could tell people the knight was for everybody else's protection instead of his own, just in case Dean decided to not keep himself under control.

He wrenched his arm away with a huff. "That doesn't mean I'll trust you. You gotta earn that."

Castiel made an exasperated sound of protest in the back of his throat, stumbling after Dean when the younger man turned on his heel and walked ahead.

"You're either my friend, or enemy, Castiel Novak. I haven't decided just which one you are yet."

* * *

Dean collapsed to his knees in the snow, the pain barely registering as he stared, unblinkingly at the flames engulfing his home.

No, no, no, this _couldn't _be happening to him. It just couldn't be. _Everything _was in that house, everything that was Sammy's, John's, Mary's-. Dean roughly shook his head.

Where was Baby? Was she-?

The black wolf whined and pressed herself close to her master's side. Thank the Gods she was okay, thank the Gods...

"Dean…?" came Castiel's tentative voice, making the huntsman clench his hands into fists, suddenly overwhelmed with unexplained anger.

"Those fucking bastards," Dean snarled. "You should've let me kill them! Now look what they did; they fucking destroyed _everything! _My entire _life _was in there, Gods damn you!This is all _your fault!" _He threw the bag into the snow and whipped around to face the knight, fury etched into his expression.

"_My _fault?" Castiel repeated incredulously. "How on Earth is this my fault?"

"The moment you started following me around all I've had is really fucking shitty luck! First you find out where I live, next you practically lead those dicks right to my doorstep, and to top it all fucking off, you're Michael's goddamned brother!" the huntsman shouted and the Holy Knight swallowed thickly, trying to work through what to say, how to explain how none of this had happened because of those things. Except maybe the second one.

"What was the plan, huh? Gain my trust and rip the rug out from under me? Take me back to your damn brother?"

"Dean," Castiel began, exasperated, "I had no part in this. I'm sure this is just their way of getting a rise out of you so that you'll go after them, right into their trap. I would never do something like this, whether or not the King is my brother. That would be very counterproductive since I'm supposed to be protecting you."

Dean snorted and turned back to his bag, ripping it open and exposing its wicked contents.

"Don't try and fucking explain this away to me. You're back to square fucking one, Castiel. Square one, and you know why? Because those guys were tracking _you_ the moment they found out you were tracking _me."_

Castiel visibly deflated at that. Dean was _right _after all. If he hadn't been so adamant about finding this Winchester, asking all over for where he could be. He should've known that somebody else would have been interested as well.

The huntsman was transferring more favored daggers and short blades to the knife belt hanging loosely from his hips, ignoring the knight's internal woes. They needed to move on; do the job that Bobby had set up for him, and then he'd go ahead and worry about what the hell he was going to do next.

He knew one thing was for certain; he sure a shit wasn't going to be hiding out in the woods in the dead of winter with a Holy Knight. At the first sign of _anything _Dean was going to ditch him. It was for the better, and he liked being alone.

The huntsman stood, daggers and blades clanking against each other, and glanced over at Castiel.

"We'll deal with all of this later. I have a job to do, and that's more important," he said, waving Baby ahead of him while he followed.

Castiel gaped after the huntsman. "You can't be serious," he said exasperatedly. "How is your property less important than your way of life?"

"My home harbored my way of life, smartass," Dean snapped, determinedly keeping his eyes forward. "Just because it's gone now doesn't mean it stops."

Dean was glad that he sounded stronger in his conviction than he felt, since he was basically walking blind into whatever the future would bring. He took a deep breath and trudged ahead, catching up with Baby and not even bothering to look and see if Castiel was following.

The huntsman grasped at his pendant-one that Sammy had given him when they were kids-and muttered under his breath, "I don't fear what comes next."

* * *

**Notes: **So, just thought I'd throw this up there while I'm stuck on my other one. Don't worry, I'll still work on it. Anyway, hope you enjoy the change in era.

By the way, the music track for this chapter: Oblivion by Patrick Wolf


End file.
